


Revenant

by LucastaPastatheShamanRamen



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, a punch to the feels followed by a soothing massage, gift fic for a hella talented writer and friend, gimme soft gay ladies, so soft, soft, who can only be soft with each other cuz the world needs them to be hard and unyielding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:44:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucastaPastatheShamanRamen/pseuds/LucastaPastatheShamanRamen
Summary: As her eyes drifted shut she could almost swear she saw something… something that might have been real or might have been a dream-steely blue eyes dancing behind a shimmering golden glow, as fierce as a storm and as tender as a gentle wake.





	1. Waking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UninspiredPoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UninspiredPoet/gifts).



> Because sometimes you just need the emotional equivalent of swallowing a sinfully soft teddy straight from the dryer after a good hard cry.
> 
> Just a little something as a gift to a good friend. I am working on Variant still as well, I promise!

REVENANT

     Warmth bathing her cheeks and a brightness shining behind her eyelids are what woke Jaina from the deepest, darkest, coldest sleep she had ever experienced. The warmth gradually spread until it covered her body from head to toe, strength flowing gently back into her leaden limbs until finally she felt strong enough to open her eyes. She regretted it immediately, the glare of the midafternoon sun too overwhelmingly bright. She closed her eyes again and pushed herself up with a groan. She felt something slip off her front as she did so, and the heat of the sun striking the bare skin of her shoulders and breasts made her eyes fly open again in alarm. She was completely nude but for an oddly aromatic leather greatcoat that was now pooled around her waist where it once had covered her torso and thighs. Jaina rubbed the leather between her fingers, marveling at how incredibly soft and supple it was. The coat flowed like water as she pulled it on. It had pale bone buttons that she teased through their loops as she stood.  
     Jaina breathed a prayer to the tides that, while the coat was clearly made for someone shorter than her vrykulesque stature, it was long enough to cover her modesty. It was also surprisingly roomy in the shoulders, which was a common issue Jaina had with clothes that hadn’t been tailored to her specifically. The coat either belonged to a man, _tides she hoped not_ , or a woman as broad in shoulder as she herself was.  
     Jaina rubbed her face against the sleeve of her borrowed coat and inhaled deeply, the combined essence of apple and birch woodsmoke and something uniquely…something… washing over her and hitting her deep inside her chest. She felt as if she’d been poleaxed, but why? The scent was familiar, so achingly familiar, but the memories associated with it lay tantalizingly out of reach. Was it a place? Was it a person? Tears pricked her eyes and Jaina raised both sleeves to her face, breathing deeply again and again as if she could ride the wave of scent through an ocean of long-forgotten memories.  
     It didn’t work. Jaina let her arms fall to her sides and the tears stream freely down her face. How could her heart ache this deeply when she couldn’t even remember what the scent meant to her? Jaina wrapped her arms around her middle and took halting steps backward until she hit the smooth trunk of a tree behind her. She slid down the tree gracelessly as sobs shuddered through her. She had things she needed to do, she had no idea where she was, what had happened, what manner of danger might be within earshot of her cries but tides she just couldn’t stop. The harder she tried the worse the sobs got until she was curled into herself and nearly hyperventilating. She cried herself into a fitful and restless sleep. As her eyes drifted shut she could almost swear she saw something… something that might have been real or might have been a dream-steely blue eyes dancing behind a shimmering golden glow, as fierce as a storm and as tender as a gentle wake.  
_She knew those eyes, once upon a dream._  
 


	2. Sating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to take a brief writing interlude to deal with juvenile black widows chilling in my bedroom, but I ended up coming back for more tonight.

     This time it was her nose that woke her. The scent of something seasoned and savory penetrated her psyche so deeply her mouth was watering and stomach growling before she could even open her eyes. Jaina pushed herself to up to her knees and gaped at the scene before her. Somehow she had slept through someone turning her hollow into a proper camp site situated around a merrily crackling fire in the center, spits of seasoned meat staked into the ground close enough to the glowing coals to keep the morsels warm but not close enough for them to continue to cook and toughen up. Judging from the hides hanging up to dry just out of reach of the flames it was rabbit meat. Herb seasoned rabbit roasted over a camp fire… she could almost remember…almost remember someone offering her a spit of meat, seated side by side on a fallen log, in a far-off forest with ever-golden leaves and effervescent sunbeams.

     Jaina closed her eyes, willing herself to become immersed in the penumbra of the memory. Dream Jaina reached out to touch the glint of daylight. Silk cascaded through her fingers. A warm breath puffed on her neck. A figure pressed itself against her back, then danced out of reach with a breezy laugh. Waking world Jaina stepped forward to reach for the silvery-gold strands that were just out of reach in her dream, but her bare foot caught on a tree root and she stumbled. Just like that the dream vanished and so did the warmth in her heart, the warmth inspired by a laugh she hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.

     Jaina rose to her feet with exaggerated care and padded to the lone stump near the stone ring keeping the campfire contained. She reached for the nearest spit of roasted rabbit, half-hoping that the first bite would begin the spell anew and revive her dream.

     It didn’t, but it was delicious. Delicious and familiar. Someone had made this for her, someone that must know her well, she thought. Someone who had made this for her before but had coyly refused to share the recipe. Someone who had been here recently, too. There were a pair of semi-charred stakes laying parallel to each other near Jaina’s feet. Her mystery caretaker wasn’t far. She just knew that, somehow. Just like she knew that looking for them wouldn’t do any good. They wouldn’t be seen until they wished to be. Until then they would be a benevolent wraith flitting around the edges of Jaina’s awareness.

     Three spits of rabbit meat were enough to sate Jaina’s appetite and fill her with a more visceral warmth. Her eyelids began to droop and exhaustion overwhelmed her. She swayed forward on the stump, dangerously close to tipping herself into the carefully curated campfire. She didn’t, though. Strong arms caught her and pulled her back into a warm, familiar body.  Jaina’s treacherous eyes wouldn’t open and her equally treacherous body relaxed into an embrace that felt like a homecoming. She was being lifted, cradled to someone’s chest. Someone who smelled of apple and birch and something else wholly indescribable, that only existed as impressions of emotion.

     Someone lowered Jaina to the ground with the utmost care, settling her on a plush pile of carefully curated furs. Soft, warm lips lingered on Jaina’s forehead and lulled her the rest of the way to sleep.

_Lips that had covered hers many a time._


	3. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She felt eyes upon her.
> 
> A gaze she had cherished once upon a time.

          Birdsong trilled through the air, _legato_ melodies weaving through each other like threads of an aural tapestry. Jaina inhaled deeply, scenting the crispness of a mountain breeze in autumn, tinged by the heady scent of sea spray misting in the wind. Jaina pushed herself into a seated position, facing toward the east where she could see a gentle pink glow just beginning to buss an oceanic horizon. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but she was two dozen paces from a cliff’s edge, near a sharp drop off to a gently undulating sea below.  She wasn’t sure if it was the rabbit, the excessive sleep, or something else entirely, but she was certain she felt more alert than she had since...whatever had happened. Some niggling earworm gave her the vague impression that the last time she had been completely coherent she had been on the deck of a ship. Her throat contracted as if remembering the orders it had been shouting to a stalwart crew. A vague sense of unease tingled in the back of her mind and the thought of a crew—in all likelihood her own crew. Had she left them undefended against some unknown threat? 

          It was beginning to aggravate her, feeling sure the answers she needed were inside her memory, locked just out of her reach. Jaina forced herself to close her eyes and take a deep, meditative breath. Memory and magic had one sure thing in common; neither worked reliably under duress. She huffed an exasperated breath and settled back onto her hands to watch the sunrise. Shades of pink, orange, and finally the first bright touch of true daylight washed over the water one after the other.  She hadn’t just sat and enjoyed the sunrise in... a great long while, Jaina supposed. She couldn’t begin to guess when the last time she’d indulged her early rising self in such a calming, leisurely start to the morning. She had the vague yet strengthening feeling she hadn’t been alone the last time.   

          She arched back in a stretch, causing her hands to splay further behind her and her fingers to brush against something that was almost sinfully soft. She glanced down; surprise brightened her face at seeing a folded garment made of the same supple buckskin as the mysterious coat she had been using to cover herself. Picking it up by one side and allowing the parcel to fall open revealed it to be a pair of trousers. Something else had been bundled inside it and had fallen when Jaina shook the bottoms out, which upon inspection turned out to be a sleeveless vest of the same artfully tanned leather, though somehow even softer than the trousers and coat. The vest seemed to flow through her fingers as she handled and examined the garment, then finally shrugged into it. The vest and the trousers both fit her perfectly, as if they had been tailored to fit. The whole ensemble had been masterfully made with only the meanest of tools available. Someone had put their heart into their craft, so much love she almost felt as if she were being embraced.

            The phantom feeling of arms wrapped around her with hands clasped over her abdomen broke a dam inside her heart that somehow the earlier scent had not managed to breach. Jaina keened in anguish, and horror, letting go of all pretense of control until her cries had almost risen to screams. Images flashed in front of her; her father’s lifeless body, a pile of corpses in Stratholme, the charred remains of Alliance soldiers, the look in Arthas’ eyes in the Halls of Reflection as he’d hunted her down. She screwed her eyes shut and covered her ears, screaming until her throat felt like a fire elemental had clawed its way out of it. It didn’t help, the images kept coming, but in sharper relief with each new iteration. The final image, the one that tore a primal sound from her that could rival a banshee’s wail, was a nightmare that combined the two worst moments of her life, neither of which she had actually witnessed making the hellish mirage all the more potent; Sylvanas’ broken and bloodied body lying in the ruins of Theramore.

            With no more breath in her body Jaina slumped back against the trunk of the tree, eyes fixed on some distant point but seeing nothing, her mind stilled and silent but for the pounding of blood in her ears.

            She felt eyes upon her.

_A gaze she had cherished once upon a time._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I did not intend for this chapter to get so dark, but I promise a wholesome and much lighter ending???


	4. Nevermore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you the one who made this?” she asked, plucking at the collar of her vest. The wicker bird cawed softly in the most ambiguous reply Jaina had ever heard, then stretched its neck forward to peck the top bone button—one of only three buttons in total—of the vest undone.

         Jaina  was dreaming, a real dream this time, and it was one she had no desire to leave. She could see long, pale blond hair draped across her shoulder and chest, felt the press of a sharp cheek resting against her collar bone. Long elegant fingers rested on her upraised knee, blunted nails scratching the skin gently. Only... the scratching was not gentle at all, it was sharp and piercing and far too heavy, not at all right. 

          Jaina  blinked herself awake with a groan and cracked open one bleary eye to peer down at her knee. She yelped and tried to push herself back and away from the empty eye sockets peering straight at her from within a wooden bird skull. The  Thornspeaker  flapped to maintain balance and gave an indignant squawk, but otherwise kept  its  perch. Tiny rivulets of blood ran down  Jaina’s  calf from the piercing of its’ talons and  Jaina  hissed at the sting.

          The mage tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but the leaf-strewn bossy forest floor she was expecting to feel under the heels of her hands had been exchanged for soft, fine-grained sand, and her arms splayed from the lack of traction and she fell flat on her back with a startled ‘ oof !’.  The druid kept its perch and never once broke its withered and withering stare. It was  _ really _  unsettling. 

          “Can I help you?”  Jaina  successfully pushed herself to a sitting position on her second try and met the druid’s gaze with a confused expression. Normally druids respected personal boundaries, but this one was acting like a common raven who happened to know one was carrying a snack in one’s pocket and that if it were patient enough it would get a bite of said snack. 

          Still defying propriety and social convention, the  Thornspeaker  remained in flight form and silent. 

          “Do you need me for something?”  Jaina  tried again, hoping her patients held out long enough to detach the druid from her leg without further damage from the wickedly sharp splinter-talons.  The druid cocked its head to the side, but seemed disinclined to answer. The bird stared at  Jaina , and  Jaina  narrowed her eyes and stared right back. 

          The stand-off lasted for several long moments, druid content where it was and  Jaina’s  mind still moving too sluggishly to come up for a more viable plan than beating the druid at its own game. 

          Jaina’s  eyes never moved from the wicker bird perched on her leg, but the rest of her senses began to wander. She could hear the gently rhythmic dull roar of waves cresting and racing toward the shore. She could smell the salt heavy on the sea breeze, the air so thick with it she could practically taste it. She was on a beach, possibly at the base of the cliff she had been resting on. 

          She hadn’t the faintest idea how she’d gotten down the cliff—and how she’d gotten to wherever she was from wherever she’d been—but the druid might. Perhaps the druid had been the one providing for her. In her heart she felt certain it hadn’t been, that she knew who her protector was yet still could not name them. It was worth asking, in any case. 

          “Are you the one who made this?” she asked, plucking at the collar of her vest. The wicker bird cawed softly in the most ambiguous reply  Jaina  had ever heard, then stretched its neck forward to peck the top bone button—one of only three buttons in total—of the vest undone.

          “Hey!”  Jaina  barked and swatted at the druid, an instant too slow for it had already withdrawn its head, prize clutched proudly in its wooden beak. The druid cawed a raucous laugh and hopped off her knee, winging backward quite impressively until it was just out of reach. It landed on the soft sand and strutted around in that odd way all corvids had when forced to amble around upon the ground.  It was obviously pleased with itself, the dried leaves that served as feathers were puffed out in a proud display, particularly around the back of its head and neck.

          Jaina  lunged forward after it in a futile attempt to get the button back. It didn’t matter that even if she got the button back, she had no way of repairing the garment herself. It mostly mattered that this avian  _ ass _  had ruined a gift that had unfathomable meaning to her. 

          The druid kept hopping, half-flapping, and dancing just out of her reach, closer and closer to the surf. She was knee deep in the water before she knew it, at this point the druid was hovering tantalizingly close. The damn thing was  _ fucking _  with her, she realized with a growl. 

          Acting almost on instinct  Jaina  attempted to gather her mana, intending to freeze the wicked  wickerbird  in mid-air, but it surged forward, startling her with a buffeting wings and ear-splitting  _ caws _  so badly that she lost her balance and landed on her back in the water. 

          Jaina’s  head broke the surface with spewed and sputtered swears, curses, and threats, all her life’s experience with Kul Tiran sailors coloring and enhancing her expletives and proving that she was absolutely a true Kul Tiran.

          A musical laugh stopped her tirade—and her heart—mid syllable.

          Jaina  knew that laugh. 

_           The laugh that had captured her heart, so long ago. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent well over an hour on hold on the phone at work and decided to use my time constructively. Ish.


	5. Cephalapod

# Chapter 5 – Cephalopod

 

               It was Sylvanas, in the flesh and appropriately flesh-toned. Her eyes had their proper Quel’dorei golden glow, making the blue-grey irises seem even more vivid. Her lips were quirked upward in a tentative yet genuine smile. Her entire expression was as soft as Jaina remembered.

               There was no hesitation, one moment the mage was sitting on her arse in the surf, the next she was flinging herself into the arms of the woman who had just emerged from the waves. Sylvanas staggered a bit from the impact, as soft sand hardly offered firm footing in the best of times, but she caught Jaina nonetheless with an ease honed from many years of practice.

               Jaina rested her chin atop pale gold hair and felt Sylvanas nuzzle her face into her neck. Time could not begin to reckon how long the women stood in waist-deep water, holding each other, breathing in the scent of each other that existed below the heaviness of the saltwater. Silent tears slipped down Jaina’s cheeks as she finally placed the scent from the leather she had been gifted. How she could have forgotten it was Sylvanas’….no, that didn’t matter, not now. She tightened her hold around Sylvanas’ broad shoulders and just let herself exist in the moment, willing her mind to imprint this memory it the clearest detail possible so that this moment, this one perfect moment, might last forever. Jaina surmised that Sylvanas was doing much the same thing; the elf’s grip around her waist tightened more with each wave that swayed them in their embrace.

               In time the woman in her arms began trembling, and Jaina noticed she was holding up more and more of Sylvanas’ weight. Concerned, Jaina leaned back and tilted Sylvanas’ head up with a gentle finger beneath her chin. The elf’s eyes were closed, but it was evident that she was weeping. Her brave and selfless Ranger-General, concealing any sign of vulnerability as she always had.

               “Please, look at me.” Jaina implored with the merest of whispers, so gentle that the wind almost stole her words away.

               Sylvanas hesitated until Jaina reached up to brush the tears from her face, to cup her face and rub her thumb across the sharpness of the elf’s cheek. The tender touch broke through Sylvanas’ thin veneer of emotional reservation and her eyes opened slowly, fixing on Jaina’s chin for a beat until Sylvanas gathered the will to raise her gaze to meet Jaina’s. Whatever she saw in Jaina’s eyes shattered the remaining shell of the Ranger-General and left the woman heaving sobs into Jaina’s chest. Jaina cupped the back of Sylvanas’ head with one hand and splayed the other against Sylvanas’ back to pull her into Jaina’s body and keep her standing.

               Tides, how strong this woman was, Jaina thought to herself, tears of her own coursing down her face. She had broken down the first day she had awakened. Sylvanas had been here—wherever here was—at least as long as she herself had been.

               Jaina wondered if she’d even been as frustrated as she was in that moment, knowing that the woman she loved had endured horrors beyond reckoning but being unable to recall what they were to offer words of support or comfort.

               The image of Sylvanas lying dead in the crater that had once been Theramore’s great keep resurfaced in her mind, but Jaina forced it back down with every ounce of willpower she possessed. She was not sure why, but she was certain whatever had happened to Theramore hadn’t involved Sylvanas and that whatever had happened to Sylvanas caused Jaina to feel immeasurable amounts of guilt and grief. There was nothing she could have done to save Theramore—and it had likely taken her years to accept that as fact—but however inadvertent her actions, they had contributed to Sylvanas’ fate in a way she doubted she could ever atone for.

               Sylvanas had eventually cried herself out in Jaina’s arms, though it had taken long enough that the tide had finished rising, bringing the water level up to Jaina’s chest and Sylvanas’ shoulders. Jaina loosened her hold on the elf and ran her hands down either side of Sylvanas’ neck, over her shoulders, and down her arms to take her hands. She began to walk backward against the push of the water, leading them back toward shore while the tide was still slack and before it began to ebb. She wasn’t sure if they could die or drown wherever they were, but she had no interest in getting caught in a rip current and finding out.

               Sylvanas’ exhaustion was evident, so as soon as they were back in waist-deep water Jaina bent down to hook her right arm behind the elf’s knees and gently lift her out of the water and into the air to carry her the rest of the way to shore. The fact that she didn’t resist or make a sound of protest, merely laid her head on Jaina’s shoulder and flicking her ear until she found a comfortable position, said more to Jaina about the state of her than words ever could.

               The tide had risen to just about lap at the edge of the stretched out and utterly enormous bearskin Jaina then realized she had woken on.

               “Sylvanas?” she asked softly, mindful of the proximity of the sensitive elven ear to her mouth.

               “Hmm?” the sensation of the elf humming her response tickled against the mage's throat.

               “Did you kill that bear?”

               “Mhm.”

               “Did you wake up here with any of your armor or weapons?”

               “No.” the syllable was almost smug, if any single syllable could sound smug.

               Jaina stared dumbfounded at the thought of her lover killing a great bear with her bare hands without receiving do much as a scratch on her, and Jaina was certain there was not a scratch on Sylvanas' body as she was completely and wonderfully naked.

               Sylanas was quiet while Jaina lowered her onto the fur, but did eventually admit, “Saoirse brought me a knife, I didn’t have to start from nothing. “ she shrugged with a small measure of the arrogance Jaina supposed the smaller woman had earned through her wood-womanly feats.

               “You brought down a great bear using only a knife?” Jaina smiled down at the woman reclining atop the bearskin, a small teasing smile that acknowledged Sylvanas' desire to be a braggart and agreed to indulge it.

               “Mmmmm. Well, only the knife and the bow and arrows I made for myself using said knife.” Sylvanas played at nonchalance, but the unmistakable perking of her expressive ears gave away her keen interest in watching Jaina carefully unbutton her sodden leather vest and shrug out of it, doing the same to her trousers with rather more difficulty as wet leather was disinclined to cooperate with anyone’s wishes.

               Jaina rolled her eyes but didn’t try to hide her widening smile. She’d missed this, missed the intimacy in knowing that Sylvanas' gaze was always a balance of hunger tempered by respectful appreciation. She never felt objectified or otherwise uncomfortable under Sylvanas intense gaze. If Jaina were to ask that Sylvanas avert her eyes, she would do it without hesitation. Jaina never had, but knowing from the early stages of their romance that her wishes would be respected without question is what had allowed Jaina to feel safe with the older woman and truly allow their relationship to flourish.

               Jaina treasured the knowledge that they were equal in their relationship and always had been. Oh, Arthas had respected her somewhat, in his own way, but he had always made it clear that he expected a level of subservience from Jaina, as he had thought was proper from any woman in a relationship with a man. Sylvanas had more political and martial clout than the Prince of Lordaeron ever had, but she had never used it as leverage over Jaina to get her own way in a matter.

               “You’re overthinking something again.” Sylvanas’ voice was quiet and sounded to Jaina to be more than a little tired. Her little show of bravado a moment ago must have taken the last of her mental reserves.

               “You know me so well.” Jaina laid her clothes out flat on the sand to dry and stretched out on her back on the furs next to Sylvanas. She began a mental count down from five to one, and sure enough there was a sleekly powerful elven form stretched out on top of her by the time she reached two. There was a chilling sensation on her breasts which turned out to be Sylvanas fanning her still-dripping hair out to dry. Jaina thought no more of it until Sylvanas slid her left hand up Jaina’s torso to tap her finger on the pebbled nipple just barely peeking through the curtain of pale hair. The elf’s eyes were closed, but the corners of her mouth were turned up in a rather self-satisfied smirk.

               “You did that on purpose.” It was a statement of the obvious more than it was an accusation of Sylvanas’ temerity.

               “Did what, my starlight?”

               The _audacity_ of this woman!

               “You know damn well what!” Jaina grunted as she flipped them over, pinning the elf’s smaller body firmly beneath her own.

               The mage scowled as that damned smirk stayed firmly plastered on Sylvanas’ face. She’d been played. She had done exactly what Sylvanas had known she would do.

               Sylvanas knew the jig was up when Jaina pulled back to glower down at her, pointedly raising herself to her hands and knees so that no part of her was pressing down on the shorter woman.

               “Please come back, dearheart.”

               “No. Shan’t.”

               Sylvanas had the audacity to pout slightly at the refusal, the tips of her ears drooping slightly in an indication of actual disappointment.

               “How can I make it up to you?”

               Jaina made a show of settling herself back on top of Sylvanas, leisurely resting her chin on the valley between Sylvanas’ breasts with her brow furrowed deep in thought. Hmm… a suitable punishment that would serve Jaina’s own interests at the same time.

               Ooooohhh oh ho ho. She had it.

               “I want octopus for dinner. Go catch one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for the wait. I'm still getting back into my writing groove after about a 5 year hiatus. Hopefully the longer chapter makes up for it!


End file.
